Inanis est Codicem
by Rayjazza
Summary: Samus uses a moment of alone time to contemplate the state of the universe after a brief mission.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The moon shattered in a soundless bang at the snap of Samus Aran's fingertips, flashing across the emerald sky in a volcanic nova and evoking primordial images in the minds of the orcs of the uncertainty of their species' future. Chunks of charred moon rock fell to Samus's lips, which she licked. They tasted vaguely of knight's flesh in a marinade of sulfur.

She took off her sunglasses that had black holes instead of lenses to see that the hordes of orcs below her were staring at the vacant corner of space once occupied by a moon. Their jealous gazes fell to the lone woman standing at the precipice of the towering blood waterfall before them.

Samus flicked her wrist. A black spiderweb of fireballs conjured in the palm of her hand. "You may think it magic, but this is energy, and every joule I expend is fueled by the souls of your fallen comrades." The wretched screams of the damned echoed over the Cursed Highlands, and the orcs' orifices bled a putrid fuckbrown at their sheer majesty.

The supercomputer embedded in Samus's left eye flashed. A message from her commanding officer, Adam Malkovich, played.

"We're hustlin outta time. Da vampire ambassadors is bustin on our troopers up in Sector 07, n' our pimps is bein kidnapped n' impregnated by tha mutant dinosaurs on Oiefh IV. Once you finish wipin dis orc slime tha fuck out, hook up wit me up in tha base ta say shit bout our next tactical move. Over n' out, Lady."

"I told you not to call me Lady." Samus jumped backwards from the bloodfall, and her helmetless plutonium space armor ignited with a comet's tail as she approached terminal velocity. "Call me The End." That's when her dragon mount appeared from behind the falls.

The dragon was not Ridley. The dragon was everything Ridley should have been. It was the size and shape of Ridley's larval form, but it had wings that spanned against the sky in a thrice-damned spread, punctuated by ballistic electric frost cannons looted off Noxus and Sylux's corpses. Its four limbs were scythes with razor bladefuckers attached, and its member was a bazooka loaded with residual lava from the time it fucked a volcano passionately but lovelessly. A platform made of skulls rolled out of its back.

"Ready to wipe out an entire species?"

Samus nodded, because she was done with this shit.

So Samus did ride the demonic metal chicken furby, and the demonic metal chicken furby did tear a portal to the fifth circle of Hell in the fabric of reality and set the once-idyllic pastures of the orc planet aflame with cocklava and quasi-divine retribution.

The kingdoms' pitiful noise ascended to the uppermost reaches of the atmosphere: the screams of the fireorcs as they tried to find water, only to find that none had existed on the orc planet since it outsourced to one of Neptune's moons; the wails of parents cradling their wounded orc children, mourning their society just as much as the individuals; the screeches of the imprisoned orcs, who had already been doomed to lobotomy followed by five weeks of community service and castration by the harsh legal system, only to find their weeks worsening tenfold with the fact that they were being wiped the fuck out.

The portal to Hell began to widen, spreading fissures down the crust of the planet that tore buildings from their foundations. Orcs fell inside in droves, voluntarily or otherwise, and plunged into the inferno. Those that remained on the surface were sliced in half by the bladefuckers of the dragon's wings. The furby grew vampire fangs and cackled with zeal as it tore the planet's final defenses open, splashing his white fur with their brown remains. Samus grabbed the orcs' leader and tore his head off. She stuffed his headless body with a time bomb infused with the holy light of an imperfect Heaven and flung it into one of the cracks, shattering the planet's shielded iron core.

The furby flexed his wings. "My blood is infused with the power of all millennia!"

"Mine isn't." No smile passed over Samus's face as she cleaned off the spinal gore with her tongue.

A faint white light emanated from the planet's molten center for a moment. The dying planet finally exploded, scattering its remains throughout the galaxy and forever silencing an entire population that may have been guilty of nothing or everything. Yet with silence came eternal peace of vigil. The small particles of matter reached for the constellations, clinging to what remained of their culture in a rainbow-hued array of coruscating atoms like esoteric crystals. When no one was left to mourn, antimatter itself did instead. The other human soldier on the planet, Armstrong Houston, was among those dead particles. His family would receive monetary compensation weeks later, but their lives would remain hollow and meaningless without such a man in their lives.

Samus felt no remorse. She'd lost any capacity to feel pity during her time spent in the trenches. In the meantime, she and her comrade flew off into space ether, humming to themselves a song of false purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Samus sat alone and loosely at her desk in the captain's quarters of her space ship. It had not been an easy ship to acquire, but through years of bartering and other means of persuasion, she managed to find a ship to sail the stars that only required fifty Vikings rowing instead of the usual seventy-five. It pleased her to see her indentured servants so hard at work, rutting at the air like teenage couples.

Armstrong Houston thrust open the door and penetrated her quarters' threshold. "Commander Aran, there is a problem to report. Also, I've brought you some baklava from our pit stop at Bakersplanet."

"I hate baklava..." Samus tucked away the universes that she had been so prudently caring for with a screwdriver and tossed a particularly mangled one into the dragonsfire incinerator behind her, where thousands of embers shaped like dragons dug away at the galaxies until they dissipated. She put down the screwdriver, which was literally a screwdriver in the sense that the handle was in the shape of a sports car with hot rod flames being occupied by two people (of nonspecific age, gender, and ethnicity, to avoid an inevitable shitstorm from the social justice planets) macking on each other, and looked at her subordinate disapprovingly for no reason.

She thought of her dead parents.

"Armstrong Houston, I have spent my entire life trying to shape the perfect universe in my image. Thus far, all have proven feeble under the strain of such an ideal, and I fear that the sheer energy I expend in the effort will cause this universe to collapse and kill everyone before I get a chance to create perfection. In other words, my concerns are far greater than anything you could hope to spit out of your eating cavity. But do go on."

He playfully nibbled at a wad of gum with his chainsaw teeth. "This isn't of much importance when positioned against your universal eugenics project. I just wanted to say that our portal to the Gator Dimension has been used up. The wranglers have run out of prey for our mead hall!"

She bit her lip and cast her vaguely lusty gaze toward the man. "What of it? My sole source of food is my seething rage at the filthy Overdimension _that's taken everything I once held dear_, and the Vikings can survive off of their beard storage for months should they run out of sustenance. You would be the only casualty, and to be perfectly honest, I do not care enough to prevent that."

"True, but is that living?" Armthong Houston slammed his hands on the table like someone in the midst of cheating on his coworker. "What is a life if it is spent guzzling down beard nutrients and rowing through the vistas of the cosmos without immediate higher purpose? Are we to say that our worth as a species is determined solely by whether or not we survive, rather than whether or not we reach the potential we wish to? Surely, a businessman would be considered a success by society if he became the richest man in the world and lived to 900 years, but what if his goal was to finally find his love? He'd have money for all of the prostitutes on this plane of existence, yet not one could fill the crevice in his soul that only a true fuckmate, one that loved him for who he was instead of what the tabloids said, would occupy."

His commander looked at him quaintly, with an expression akin to that of a frat boy looking at a porno mag. It was the perfect storm for her to have an organism, but she didn't. The species went extinct shortly after. "Your words touch me, Armdong Houston. However, I feel you have wasted my time. I have but one question for you: in the perfect universe that I plan on crafting, would this sort of philosophy and hedonism even be necessary?"

"Yes, because nobody will ever be satisfied with utopia." Armdingdingdong Houston winced in a final look of desperation, kind of like the face of someone who wants a fuckmate, but at the same time not like that at all.

Samus rolled her eyes and grabbed her associate with the grapple beam.

Armbong Houston was flung into space, where he proved unable to survive against the cyborg space vultures from Sector 12. His family would receive monetary compensation weeks later, but it wouldn't alter the fact that they were still related to Armstralala Houston.


End file.
